


Tactics

by Galaxy_Kryptonite



Series: Learning You Were Wrong [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: :), A fukin month, Anyways, Don't let me do things please, F/M, GOTCHA BITCH, Gen, Help, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have been typing tags for the past 10 minutes, I have worked on this for a month goddamnit, I was supposed to be working on something else, I'm at 8k and determined to finish this tonight, I'm self indulgent, Oh, One Shot, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Please Don't Hate Me, Romance, Romantic Fluff, So I saw fanart and i decided to be selfish, This goes out to that person from instagram, and i always need one, and socially an F-, but i most likely will eventually post more in this universe, but i wrote this so i guess i'm not???, but i'm here, but that's why your on ao3, i actually did work on it some, i actually like how this turned out, i do take prompts so, i failed you pj, i should get back to 'finishing' this, i took your art and made it a reader inert to the max, im sorry ghostpj's, its 3am, mark my probably untrue words, my god, nice, oh and btw, oh weel, okay so tag you later nerds, queer, romantic, sorry - Freeform, thanks btw, these tags aren't helpful at all for people, this is a 'one shot', this nonacceptance of your own feelings to the max, well crap, which means it my reader/oc woman, yeah you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Kryptonite/pseuds/Galaxy_Kryptonite
Summary: Your boss is Russian, tall, and a ego-manic. Other than that, he's actuallynotto worse to you. Then again, you are his secretary and order all his stuff so you guess that comes with the position. Anyways, why were in his mansion alone with him and your shirt unbuttoned again?This is a one shot based off some fanart that i saw on instagram that was freakin great and i loved it and all there other work. Thus, this was born. Might write something else in this universe after a while.Thanks PJ!!!





	Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostpajamas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpajamas/gifts).



Working for the infamous Vlad Masters was more than you signed on that contract for. Despite its depth and detail to the slightest of things, from privacy to what was expected of phone calls and tea, it failed to list one thing. This one thing of course, was the most important part of your contract. You were there to be one of the world's best companies, you had to be unbiased, cunning, undivided in time and mind for this job, you were the ice queen of a dynasty and your emperor was the only one above you. Fulfilling this duty was effortless enough for you, handling situations with a frozen heart and an ingenious mind your forte. The problem with that is that it _did not_ mention at the time that you would become the man's best friend.

Damn contracts and the fine print.

For the past 3 years you worked relentlessly for your job, the last one and and a half being for him. Breaking through that tough exterior wasn't at all part of your plan for the next years you and planned out for yourself. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep, work, retire, die. Yes, maybe it was a little morbid, but it was the undeniable truth. We all die, accept it and move on because you didn't have the time to waste. Somewhere between the very, very late nights working with him, the two of you ending up having dinner together, business conferences, shared hotel rooms, and small talk had you started to care, just a little bit, about him. After all, business relationships were a _big_ ’No’ on your list of things you'd pledged to yourself. Good thing there wasn't anything there, you are his secretary, [Y/N] Roman. Nothing more, nothing less, and would stay that way. You were a damn fool for lying to yourself when you said that you didn't hold onto some hope. Lying was only for business, and technically, this wasn't business. Well, _not now_ , at least.

How you found yourself sitting in a billionaire's art room in the middle of Idaho was questionable by many ways. Your top three buttons being undone also added in a detail or two of what in the fuck might be happening. _Classic hook up with the secretary, headlines everywhere over the country and the globe spreading like a wildfire_ \- completely disregarding the fact that you were holding a pan of paints with extra brushes lazily pushed behind your ear.

Yes, you had convinced the world's richest man, two time winner of Man of the Year, World Peace Advocate, who has 4 MDs, and too many bachelors to count, to sit in an unused art room in his mansion so you can paint. Well, more like you made an agreement, you didn't persuade him, rather, quite the opposite. Mr.Masters had taken you by the back of your waist with a gentle hand and escorted the two of you down to take a 'break'.

_You might want to back up there, partner._

Twenty minutes before this, everything was acting to the expectations of the media- hard work, no breaks, and absolute silence. Just you in a pristine white button up blouse, your heels, and the utmost appropriate light grey slacks. And yes, so what if your slacks matched his hair color? You looked good in white tones and it help the media say " _How pure_ , they can't be doing _anything_ wrong!" When your purchase records clearly say otherwise.

With your hair up and eyes focused, the only thing that could be heard was your typing and Mr.Master's pen writing on the mahogany desk over from yours, towards the back of the room. Behind him the giant glass windows gave the pitter-patter of rain from the sky's unending drizzle turning into actual drops after all day being dreary. The windows let in light from the public gardens down below the skyscraper, if it were not raining you'd imagine birds would be chirping. Now it was only the cold Idaho rain.That was all background static though, you were determined to work until Mr.Masters was ready to retire for the night.

Typing away on your state-of-the-art laptop was business plans and meetings for 13 weeks, the next four and a half months of business all beneath your fingertips. Your desk was neatly arranged, papers aligned almost perfectly sitting on the 'OUT' tray, the 'IN' being emptied some hours earlier. You worked quite efficiently throughout the day, only stopping for necessities such as lunch and bathroom breaks. They also served as reminders for Mr.Masters to eat the lunch you brought him 45 minutes ago. Well fortunately, it was at least cold sever most the time such as salads and sandwiches.

VladCo had just closed out a big deal that morning, Mr.Masters and yourself attended a short celebration meeting before coming back to the offices to start in the paperwork. For this deal, you had actually cleared out both your schedules for the day so that most the paperwork would be completed before tomorrow. You attended all of his business meetings, hell, you either ran them or went in place of him for the company most the time. Efficiency and power was what this company stood for, and by god or any other deities you were going to uphold this to the best of your ability. The workers and media knew as well, [Y/N] Roman was a feared business woman who kept up with THE _Vlad Masters._ Respect for VladCo was worldwide, everyone who knew anything about business knew about the Tyrant Vlad Masters and his feared assistant [Y/N] Roman.

So you could see why finding a business mongrel in an art room with his assistant on a rainy day, painting of all things, not currently scaring small businesses, was inconceivable.

It was 6:47 in the afternoon when he broken the working silence.

"Miss Roman," snapping to his attention from the sudden noise you turned to see him put away his pen. The pages on his desk were seemingly finished, being stacked onto the upper left of his desk. His hands came to hold each other delicately on top of his desk, elbows off of course. Looking up his chest to his face to caught his eye and he took it as a sign to continue speaking

 

"You have done more the plenty today, thank you. You may go home now." His voice sounded it's normal deep tone; sometimes being close to him you could feel rumbles from its authority that cause a chill down your spine. Its wasn't in any way unpleasant though...it was quite nice.

"Mr.Masters," Your voice was that even toned that got you called Bitch behind your back though it's your normal pitch. You stood during your pause to address him. Politeness, elegance, and manners was your policy to everyone that deserved it.

Striding over to his desk, your heels clicked on the expensive wood floors, muffled as it was from the rain it was still very audible. The shuffling of your high waisted slacks weren't as loud, the bottoms of them pushing the chiffon material back and forth. Hands folding, you stopped in front of the desk, the smooth finish having a glisten from the light.

"I am more than fine, I'll clock out when you are finished for the day as well, Sir." You replied to him, simply denying his request. It was utterly disgraceful for you to leave before your boss, clocking out together felt more sound to you.Not because of any other reasons though, just business etiquette, yep, nothing else.

Mr.Masters backed his chair up and stood up as well, his height being just a few inches taller than you. Heel-less, he was a whole head taller than you, a _nice_ 6’3. Now having to look up rather than down to speak to him, you found yourself trailing over his chest again for just a second. Some point in the afternoon he had taken off his suit coat because he was only in another pristine white button up with his signature red ribbon tied around his neck. You had always noticed that on the tips of the ribbon was a thin gold line. It was nicely placed to where only anybody close could see it, and _you_ and the _pleasure_ to see it.

"Nonsense Miss Roman, I insist. You work tremendously well and an essential to the company, please, take a break." He looked you right in the eyes when speaking, damn his _tactics_...but it would _still_ be disgraceful to leave without ensuring that he had finished his work for the day, especially in this weather. Stubbornness was a trait for the both of you, but you'd just have to go further. Letting your business facade fade, you were guaranteed a good conversation and chance at making him leave with you.

"Sir, it would be disgraceful for me to leave before you, and if anyone of us needs a break, it's you, Sir." Sass and being kick ass was the person behind the ice Bitch of VladCo. Smirking you watched as he tried his best to hide the break of a smile that tried to escape. He refuted as he turned to grab his suit coat off the back of his chair.

"Oh my, somebody slip a little a whiskey into their tea this morning?"

You smiled as you took a step to the side to grab the signed papers to put in the outsender's office on your way out of the offices- _scratch that_ , Mrs.Lancaster was out on maternity leave since yesterday. (You sent her a card of congratulations early morning yesterday along with some flowers)

"Who said I put _tea_ in my _whiskey?_ "

He actually chuckled a little at that, a deep chest-rumbling one. It was nice knowing you could give him some comfort on dreary days like this that was mostly paperwork on paperwork for hours. It was a miracle that neither of you had needed back surgery, although, he isn't the _fondest_ of hospitals...you never found out why either… _strange._

"I apologize for the assumption, _but m'dear,_ " he walked around his desk and turned to be face to face with you, barely a foot apart, looking right in your eyes again. For some reason your heart had started beating loudly in your ears, being hyper aware of your pulse, breaths, and how much your bust was point out. Damn _TACTICS!_

"Please do take a break. You deserve one."

Throat suddenly dry, you swallowed and tried to seem unaffected by your proximity to each other. This most definitely wasn't the closest you'd been to him, not by a long shot. Sudden memories of that night at the _gala and your shared hotel room_ popped up- but _that's_ a story for another time...

"And you as well. I simply refuse to take a break unless you do as well. _Don't think I won't reschedule my own meetings if you cancel them._ You and I both know that I frighten the interns than you."

"Hmm, yes. Remind me to fix that."

Giving a soft ‘hmph’ you replied to his request, "Will do Sir, will do."

At this point you two stepped away so that you could grab your purse and logout of your computer ; it had been mutually and silently agreed you were done for the day, _no matter how much you acted like you didn't know that he was done an hour and a half ago._ As you got you belongings, he logged out of his own and you heard him opening his desk draw to grab his personal and business phones along with his keys. Quickly you met back up in front of the door and continued out to lock it, the lights begin automatic by sensors.

"So what does one Miss [Y/N] Roman do as a relaxing break?"

 

Small talk, _Nice._

"Well," You had to think on it…

Your last break was at home and those didn't count because you were forced to take it, courtesy of Mr.Masters here. What would you do? If you had the option, what would you do? In college you ran and did crossfit, you had the thighs and biceps of a goddess, not to mention the grace. You studied other sciences in your spare time, school being your number one priority. Having random knowledge of many scientific theories, studies, history, and cultures was a huge help in making deals and connections in business. Other than being an uber nerd, you hadn't done much else, and that didn't bother you. Learning was a privilege and always a hobby of yours…

Hobby! 

You forget about the other hobby you had when you were younger! Memories of late nights and early mornings covered with stray colors pass by your mind. You constantly kept brushes in your hair, which didn’t help you with your problem of finding random pain globs in your hair that ultimately had to be cut out. It was quite, sincere, and had a special feeling of peace. It had been a while since you had that kind of serenity.

"I haven't had one in a while. I'm not exactly sure, but I think painting would be something I'd like to pick up again."

"Oh?" 

He turned to you as the two of you reached the elevator, you went ahead and pressed the button for the lobby. You looked back up to him, a small, sweet smile on his face and a child-like curiosity in his features. You felt your shoulders relax and your grip on your bag loosened, unconsciously you and been strangling it. He actually looked...interested in what you do outside of work; probably only for interest's’ sake, not like he was interested in you specifically or anything. You were still staring at him, shit. You hadn't _meant_ to, it was just that it was quite now and you two were waiting for the elevator. Alone. Together.

“Well I hope you can find time in your now fairly open schedule to use your secret artist abilities.”

You turned with your pointer finger in his chest and threatened him, ‘Oh don’t you dare, I will put all of your City council meetings and attendance required openings on the same day!”

“Ooo, ouch, you’ve wounded me.” he sarcastically put a hand up to his chest where you were pointing and slumped his shoulders, fainting a injury from your threat of a partially annoying day. You smirked at him and playfully punched his arm with little force, him straightening back up to his full height.

 _ **Ding!**_ Oh, the elevator had arrived…

Vlad gestured for you to go in first and you did as so, your white stilettos clicked a little louder from the transfer from the hallway tile to the metal flooring of the elevator. He followed closely behind you to reach out to press the gold button for the lobby floor. He brushed past you as he got comfortable for the ride down and took a moment to do the same as well.

“Well I hope that you have time for painting soon. It'd be a shame for you not have the time to pick up something outside of work.”

“Thank you for the sentiment, but it most likely won't be anytime soon. I don't currently have any supplies or appropriate places to paint. But yes, it would be quite nice to take it up again sometime.” You answered him truthfully; there was no point in lying to him, it was evident you wouldn’t have time to to anything like that soon. 

And that was fine, you had work and you enjoyed said work. Breaks from work were not common for you, not because of efficiency dropping (although it plays a part), but because you didn’t really have anything to do at home other than read, cook, sleep, bathe, take care of your plants, and plan for work. With 24 hours in the day, that wasn’t nearly enough things or objectives to complete. So in your conclusion, breaks weren’t the best thing to take without further planning of many other tasks.

“Hmmp…” 

_Oh god,_ you knew that noise he made. The half sigh and scoff he did, he was going to offer you something and you were afraid you could not say No. Not because of him, but your own beating heart that had calmed down at some point in time. It was _completely, hopelessly_ inappropriate for Vlad Masters, your boss mind you, and his assistant to be together outside of work while not doing work things. If the public found out, _Jesus Christ…_ it would be a massacre of his, yours, the company’s publicity. All because you couldn’t say no, but _could you really blame yourself_?

That answer turned out to be _Yes._

“I have an old, untouched art room at my mansion. You can use it as much as you please, it’s the least I could do for all your work.” He offered and motioned his hands in the classic offer gesture, his right hand propped out, his fingers extended. He had also kept eye contact ever since you caught his eye as he began talking. These damn _tactics_ would absolutely murder you…

“Thank you for the offer, but I couldn’t possibly. My schedule is full for weeks day and night, the only possible time I could would be tonight.”

“Well then come tonight, I don’t mind at all. I’ll tell the chef to prepare two meals instead of one…” Cutting himself off, he started reaching for his personal phone in his left pocket. _Shit! You didn’t want to impose or possibly embarrass yourself...well, if you could even more after that gala event…_

“Sir, it’s fine you don’t have to-”

“It’s not problem m’dear, I can-”

“Please, _I'm fine_ and I'm sure you'd like to go home and have some alone time. I'm asking you to just relax-”

“And I’m asking you if you want whiskey or wine-”

“Sir, _please_ just-”

“Roman, I _insist_ for tonight you-”

“And _I insist_ that I will not **bother** you tonight or-”

“[Y/N}.”

With the smallest of tut’s, you immediately stopped your spouting to take a minute to listen to him. He had changed his voice to his serious, all business voice to grab your attention. Swallowing, you self-consciously straighten your posture to not seem so small compared to you. You hadn’t noticed, but during your argument the two of you had drifted closer from where you had stayed close to the elevator walls. He was so close to you now, barely a foot away. He had to crane his neck down to keep eye contact. He swiftly raise his hand to cup your face, it was warm on your cheek. You could feel his breaths, hot and regular on your face. _Oh shit,_ you had made the mistake of panicking a bit and looking all over his face. His jawline, his lips, cheekbones, and the hair that had fallen out of his hair tie. This, was how you basically fed yourself to the dogs, as you made the mistake of catching his eyes.

“You _will_ come enjoy yourself at my house tonight. That is an _**order**_.”

You had a shiver rattle your spine as he spoke. Such a ferocity in his eyes, your own widening in response. Your breathing had left you, only a soft, hot breath escaped before it felt as if everything had slowed to a stop. You could feel all the blood rushing to your face, it was undoubtedly pink as a peach by now. Trembling, you did your best to have any sort of intelligent answer to his demand. You also went for something along the lines of a “No” before your petty little-well big- crush got the best of you.

That didn’t happen.

“U-um,” Oh god, you don’t ever stutter. 

“Yes S-sir.”  
_Goddamn it._

He smirked and let go of your face, stepping back into a neutral stance and facing the elevator door. You were frozen still for a good second and then quickly readjusted yourself, pushing back some stray hairs and desperately trying to straighten out _chiffon_. You could feel his smirk, and on your life you swore he laughed a little.

_**Ding!** _

There is a god.

The elevator smoothly opened its doors to the empty lobby, revealing a very flustered you, alone with you boss, a billionaire. Well, not quite empty. There was four highly qualified security guards with their backs turned to you in black uniforms. You prayed to every deity that it would remain with them facing away. And dear god, if the press saw you now with your rosy face behind a smirking billionaire? They would have a _field day._

Stepping out first, you followed Mr.Masters out and into open space. The lobby was themed the business palette: blue-grey, black, silver, gold, and white accents. The front desks were to the left and right of this elevator, it being the only one with access to the top 8 floors. Their were sets of specialty tables with upwards of 800$ chairs in the corners, a few extra sets around the coffee shop to your right as well. The high ceilings were accompanied by chrome chandeliers and a flawless white roofing. The flooring was not what was usually expected, it was again a blue grey hardwood that was laminated. There wasn't a single scuff or mark on the floor either; You didn’t pay janitors and maintenance that well for there to be even one on this floor.

There were huge windows to the outside main road, the rain pitter-pattering on the views, the trails of mist following cars was prominent. Traffic wasn’t s busy as it usually was, most likely due to the weather. People did not usually enjoy this kind of weather, but you sure did. From the lack of people or just you loving rain, you weren’t sure.

You could easily spot the sleek black limo outside, the windows distorting the red taillights. You silently followed behind him, trying to calm yourself. You were so flustered from this and you couldn’t figure out why! Was it nerves, perhaps? Why would you have nerves at this? This was nothing, you had given president and emperor of countries death glares over business deals, and yet here you stand jittery as a child going to a toy store. You didn’t have time for this, there were employees still here!

The two of you kept quiet until the two of you reached the doors, one of the guards turned to hold open the door for the both of you. The rain outside was constant and as noticeable as your heartbeat in your ears. It wasn't loud per say, but it could definitely be heard better from the buffer being gone.Another walked towards Mr.Masters and handed him a black umbrella, both of them moving in swift action. He stopped in front of you to grab the offer tool and you paused as well behind him. You glanced down to make sure that nothing would be damaged by the rain- _Dammit!_

In your flustered state you had completely forgotten about the papers for the outsider, _god fucking damn._ You would have to give these to one of the guards here, major _fuck up_. You glanced back up and surveyed the information on them you had available in your mind.

_  
Umbrella man: Arin Ryan Divaid, 43, Widower, father of 4, grandfather of 7. Employed by VladCo for 14 years. Uses humor on the job except in front of Mr.Masters, believes his lackluster work ethic isn’t known. Has previous experience with handling the press, but with not the best tactics. Overall, 84.3% chance the papers would arrive and a 24% chance that they would not be delivered correctly. So definitely not..._

_Window guard to the left: Elise Fountain, 34, no children, not married. Employed for years now. Useful and innovative with tactics for the press and unruly guest. One of VladCo’s best in what she does. Very athletic, had GPA of 3.0. Overall, physically strong, smart, and responsible. 87.8% chance for the papers to be delivered correctly. Possible choice._

_Doorman: David Arlyn Feirs, 37, father of two, married to a husband. Employed by VladCo for 11 years. Works front door in the afternoons, has had major jobs before in security. Came to the gala. Knew to keep his mouth shut and had the uncanny ability to tell the press to sincerely **fuck off**. Overall respectful and good for below the belt operations. If given the papers? 97% sure they would delivered correctly._

_Guard to the right: Charles “Charlie” Burbanks, 27, newbie to security. Fresh out of the Marines, Married, wife is currently pregnant. Caught three men with guns two weeks ago on the 14th floor attempting to take research. Is training for higher security position. Took up front door afternoon shift for extra cash for the baby. Overall a good man who knows what to do with his life. He still is a newbie so chances of him knowing where to put the papers was low._

_David will do for tonight._

You decided that all within about five-ish seconds, enough time for Mr.Masters to grab the umbrella and walk in the door frame to open it outside. You stride towards the door after him, all business in your manner. The cool breeze from outside finally hit you, the moist air being like mint to your lungs; chilly like ice would be a good descriptor. The grey skies had a feeling to them that you couldn't quite describe though, it just feel akin to the calm of meditation. You straightened your chiffon pants as much as you could, the gust from the door was making it shift around like a flag.

You turned to Mr.Feirs catching his attention immediately, he didn’t expect you to speak to him directly. In your peripheral view Mr.Masters was waiting with the umbrella, stopping to see what you would do. Putting that cold gleam in your eyes, you addressed the man.

“Mr.Feirs, please put these in the outsiders office tonight. I expect they will be taken care of, yes?” Your voice was montoned and all business, slipping into ice Bitch was as easy as breathing for you. None of the fluster earlier could ever touch you in this state of mind. 

“Yes Ma’am.” was his simple reply to you.You held out the papers from your chest extending them to him. He took them carefully from your grasp, as if they were glass. Good choice, he was taking this seriously. Turning back to the door, Mr.Masters was holding the umbrella out for both of you. 

Stepping out into the fresh air, the door closed behind you. Small droplets of water fell onto you feet, the openness of your stilettos letting the water freeze you already cold feet. Mr.Masters and you walked forward to the steps down to the road where the limo was waiting for you. Right before you began to descend them yourself, he held out his hand to you. Glancing from his hand to his face, and seeing his smirk, you gratefully took it and let a smile of your own escape. It was warm and had callouses from work, somehow being rough and soft at the same time. You were certain your heart was suffering from arrhythmia by now from all the beats it had skipped.

When you two got to the last few steps, the chauffeur appeared and opened the door. Escorting you inside first, you slid over the comfortable black seat, losing his hand in the process. Clutching your bag, you you loved the strap off of your shoulder and set it on the seat beside you. Sitting in the middle-left half of the car, you watched as he handed the chauffeur the umbrella and climbed in himself next to you. _Close_ next to you, his thigh was almost touching yours, pant leg barely brushing yours. The door shutting beside him snapped your attention to his face, which thankfully, his attention was still at the window of the door. You probably should initiate some small talk before you get really awkward and blushy. _God damn it, couldn’t you have just went home?_

“Are you sure it’s okay that I use your room?” you asked hesitantly to his back, focusing on his silver hair that trailed down his shoulders. Your eyebrow was unconsciously cocked up in again, your own hesitance. You were worried that you would bother him. People outside of business were a huge mystery to you, emotions weren’t your best quality.

He turned back to you and tilted his head down to look right at you. You had always noticed when he starting a conversation, he let his left eyebrow up. It made him look sophisticated, like he was a higher class than everyone else. Like a Lord of a monarchy, esteemed and graceful. And in your eyes, he was all of that and maybe a little more; and you? You were nothing close to that, the gala proved it.

You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and glanced down. Deciding to keep your head down you tried to hide the shame that you had. Why you were shameful? Being the Ice Bitch was easy enough, static-value analysis and management being your expertise. But coming down on emotions and people? You didn’t have a clue of what to do with those. You spent your time reading, writing, lighting candles, taking care of your plants, investigating, bubble baths, cooking, and yoga. And you did it alone because people were difficult. And loud.

“Yes of course. I hope you don’t believe that you’re bothering me because that’s just foolish. I am glad that you are coming. The room never is used anyways, it will be good for it to finally get some use. This isn’t some meeting that is required, m’dear, it’s _a choice._ I chose to invite you to put something to good use, have dinner, and nice conversations. This is completely optional for me and completely my choice. It’s not out of pity either, and you _should_ know that.”

That was...unexpected to say the least. 

You nodded in response still in shock from his speech. Turning back to look out your window you focused on the ride instead of him, slipping into a comfortable silence without anything else to say. Tonight was going to be a strange one for sure. You weren’t sure what to feel now, or about this ‘break’ time either. He was a strange man as well, but you guessed that strange things attract.

While yes, Vlad was strange, he wasn’t bad or evil. You saw his orders. Hell, you placed them most the time. You weren’t sure what it was for but you knew it was being used for something. Something big, and the Fenton boy-Daniel was it?- was involved. You certainly weren’t blind as the rest of this town, something was going on here.

Amity Park was a strange place with strange,,, _things._ You would have never believed in ghost unless you had moved here and taken this job. Getting this job had changed your whole view on life for the better, and weirder. It was okay though, it made you do things and meet people that would help you get better and forget about what had happened. You were a new person. To become the person you want to be, you have to kill who you were born to be. And you were completely fine with that.

With the rain beating on the window and the smoothness of the ride, you slowly let your eyes close and drift away with your thoughts into sleep.

_**And that, was okay** _

* * *

“...[Y/N]...[Y/N] we’ve arrived, time to wake up.”

Slowly cracking your eyes open, you blinked to wipe away the sleep. You were in the car with Vlad- _Mr.Master_ \- on the way to his house and… _oh shit._ You had slept on your boss’s shoulder! You swore that you had closed your eyes for the car ride- _goddamn it_ and maybe, just _maybe_ would sleep, but not on him! And you could clearly feel the warmer areas of your cheek and upper body from laying on him! 

You sat up straighter from the side slouch you were in and immediately went to clear your eyes. Rubbing them lightly, you opened them again to see Vlad Masters waiting on _you_ to get ready to get out. _God, if you or anyone else is there, you’re a fucking prick and fuck you-_

“Nice nap?” Smirking bastard is what he was, he found you sleeping entertaining and _cute_ \- wait _cute?_ Get your head out of the clouds [Y/N]! By god, if he was going to be a total asshole you would be just as much as a sassy bitch to him.

“Sir, if we’re off the clock, may I just say something?”

His smirking increased, he knew you were going to be a bitch- maybe tonight _would_ be a good night...

“Go ahead.” He basically _purred_ the sentence at you.

“You are an absolute prick.” You stated proudly to him. You smiled at him and looked right into his eyes saying it, god that felt good. He actually chuckled and scrunched his eyes the way he does when he laughs. You also sighed dreamily at him but let out a deep breath instead. You were _totally_ smitten with your boss. _Damn it_

He slid over and got out of the car. Now you noticed the chauffeur holding the umbrella for him and the stairs leading to the house behind. Well, more like castle or mansion, but home is home. He held out his open palm to you and you gazed back up at him.

“I have been told before m’dear, are you ready?”

You took a moment to watch him in this moment; the rain fluttering behind him, flashes of greenery and brick through the storm. And there he was as a groundment, holding out a hand to you. _Did he do this on purpose?_ You swore that in the grueling work days, these moments made everything worth it.

“As I’ll ever be.” You answered gladly and took his hand. You lifted yourself up and over to the door with his help. Putting a heel out, it made a noise between a squish and crunch when it hit the gravel of the driveway. He pulled you up and out with graceful ease just as he had before at the gala but this felt so much more personal. You felt his other hand delicately grasp your lower back sending a shiver down your spine. You hoped to god he didn’t feel that…

The chauffeur closed the door behind you and gave the umbrella to Mr.Masters to carry you up to the doors. Now that you were out of the car, you could see the familiar ‘house’ better. The old bricking and the nice dark wood accents, the pops of white and the gardening that never ceases to amaze you in its beauty, and the very hard to see cat area through the window to the left. Flower bushes and other plants lined the stairs and pathways, leading off into some truly exquisite gardens from your past visits. 

You felt at ease as he still held your hand to help you up the stairs. It made you happy that you knew that _he_ knew that you could easily go up these steps in platform heels covered in soap- but you’d never ruin a moment like this. Gripping him tighter with each step, you failed to hide your smile. It made you happier when you could see his as well.

At the porch he lowered the umbrella and then let you of your back. You already missed his warmth, whether from the coolness of the rain or just generally him, you weren’t sure. He started gently shaking off the water, and for a second when he thought you weren’t looking, the water went _through_ the umbrella. This didn’t phase(hA) you at all though, occurrences like this happened all the time around him. You were never sure what is was or why it happened, but you never said anything. 

And you never would. 

It was being hidden for a reason and in a town like this, that could be the difference between what was left of normalcy and the Fentons suddenly taking an interest in you. As a secretary- as _his_ secretary, you knew secrets were meant to be kept.

He let his hand return to your back and urged you forward and you complied to. The door opened from the inside from a maid on the inside with brown hair. She wore an all black dress shirt and slacks with appropriate shoes. Her hair was in cornrows with red color tied into some of them and pull into a ribbon in the back. Her face was round and had imperfections but she was no doubt beautiful. You didn’t mean to but your brain went into research as soon as it could.

_Iris Pearson, 24, newly hired, lives by herself in an apartment. Has done excellent work so far and Mr.Masters himself approved of her work highly. She knows when and how to work without instruction and was clearly going to be superb employee._

The two of you walked in and he automatically held it out to her. You slipped out of his grasp, which he didn’t seem to expect, and turned to take off your stilettos. They easily slipped off and your feet felt so much better on the cool hardwood. They didn’t hurt per say, but it did feel a lot more natural. You lost some inches although, so now Mr.Masters was even taller than before. You were about the same height as Miss Pearson now, a good 5’5. Short as that may seem, you were fine with it. You could get taller with shoes but you however cannot grow shorter so you were content.

“ Thank you Miss Pearson,” you paused to turn back around to face her. She shut the door and turned to address you as well. Slipping into business again, you informed Miss Pearson of her work status with as much gratitude as you could slip in.

“Your work has been exemplary so far. I hope that we continue to have your support in the next years. And on behalf of myself, welcome to VladCo.” You slipped your hand out to her shoulder and let the smallest of smiles slip through for her. She had a look nervous in her eyes until you spoke praise. The poor girl was so anxious about doing a good job that she was afraid she had done badly when in the fact, she was doing great. She looked towards you, noticing your smile, and relaxed visibly. 

“Yes I _completely_ agree with [Y/N]. Your work has been excellent so far Miss Pearson. Please keep it up.”

_Holy shit. First name basis. Oh my Fuck._

“Thank you. I enjoy the work. Management is...entertaining to say the least.”

She curtly bowed in appreciation and then quickly moved onto her other chores. You were still reeling from the use of your first name. When was the last time someone had said your first name? You had always been Miss Roman, he had only twice used your first; once when you were interviewed for the job, the other at the gala(you were too hyped up on champagne and wine to care, although). 

This was...new. Nice, but new.

Mr.Masters walked closer to you and put his hand back on your back, that warm sensation returning to your chest. He added some pressure to escort you forward towards the right hallway besides the grand stairs. You tried your best to stop fluttering your eyes everywhere but you were doing your best not to look at his again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle the embarrassment of your face being all red. You looked at the artworks and the green walls, how the dull light from outside was reflecting differently from the artificial chandeliers, how the hallway carpet was fluffy against your toes, and how big this hallway was but how close he was to you.

“Did that bother you? [Y/N]? I apologize if I overstepped the line.” He asked you as the two of you walked along the halls. You guessed he was in a talkative mood, after all, he _did_ invite you to his house for the evening.

“N-no Sir, it’s completely fine. I just can’t remember the last time someone called me by name.”

“Well that’s a shame, it’s a beautiful name, [Y/N]”

You felt flush from the flattery, you smiled and tilted your head to the side. You hadn’t meant to turn away you kept your eyes on the floor.

“Well,” you looked back up to him as you continued walking,”I only request that I may call you by your first name as well then.”

“Then [Y/N], we best get down to the art room. We have dinner waiting there for us.”

“Yes, we should hurry down there, _Vlad_.”

You both laughed like fools down the hallway and made insignificant small talk, _using first names mind you_ , all the way to the room. You had even managed to lift your face to hold onto any dignitiy that you had left. Part of you wanted this to stop, to slip back into the unemotional ice bitch, but the other wanted this to never end. But you knew what you were doing. You were already walking the road to hell, but you might as well have a friend with you.

“Tell me Vlad, do you always invite women over to have ‘dinner’ in your art room?”

“Does [Y/N] always agree to come along?”

“Maybe she didn’t want to deal with your sass while having dinner.”

“Mph, well, she _certainly_ is missing out then [Y/N]”

“How so? I don’t think she is missing out on _anything_ Vlad”

“Mmm, I’d have to disagree m’dear”

“Oh? What is she missing then?”

“Well how about we see?” He had been looking down at you the whole way but now he lifted his head up and gestured his hand to an open door to your left. It was a pristine white wood that had beautiful carvings. It was the same as all the other hallway doors but you felt as if something special would happen in there.

Vlad still held your back as the both of you walked in and you keep a smile off your face.

It had hardwood flooring that was a light beige color. The walls were white but there wasn’t much wall across the room. It was rectangularly shaped with the wall opposite of the door made completely out of glass. It looked into a garden outside where the rain was drizzling down and gave off a calming light from outside. To the right was again, white cabinets with stacks of canvases, brushes, then a sink, bowls, palettes, aprons, and some miscellaneous stuff at the end. Which included a tray that had two empty glasses, a pitcher of tea, two water bottles, and a bottle of whiskey. _That son of a bitch…_

You turned your attention to the far wall, which was one giant rack that held every color that you had ever seen. There was acrylic, chalk, pastel, watercolor, any paint that you could imagine. They were expensive brands too. The left side of the room just held boxes of various sizes that were taped up.

You had stopped dead in your tracks and just took in the room.

Memories of younger days painting in harmony flooded you. The sunny days, the rainy ones like this, the fog you painted over the lake, the beach and how much sand got in your palette. The crust on your hands, how badly it hurt to peel off acrylics due to arm hair, the random splotches you found on yourself. The best part was when other people saw. They saw _you_ making art. They saw you dancing and flinging paint everywhere, they saw you bent over in concentration making the most delicate lines, holding your breath. They saw _You_.

It _had_ been to long since you had done this passion.

You missed art, and it missed you.

You snapped out of you memory haze when Vlad moved his arm to put it on your shoulder. He had apparently been worried when you just stopped.

“I hope this is significant?”

_Significant? **Significant?**_

“This is…”you began breathily, god you hadn’t realized it was taken away. ‘More than significant...this is _wonderful!_ Look at it!” You said a bit louder than you wanted to, but you didn’t care at this point. You were more excited than you had been in a while. At this point he had managed to make your business facade fall completely. He had made it melt away with a few words and an offer.

_Tactics_

You grabbed his hand and rushed further into the room to have a better look. He let out a surprised ‘tut’ as you dragged him forward from behind you. Letting go of his hand you spun around in a twirl, your clothing spinning around you. You stopped and looked at the room once more, the back to Vlad who was just looking at you with not a smirk, but an actual smile.

“This, _this_ , is amazing! Are you sure that I can use it!?” You asked to make sure one more time, grabbing him by the biceps and leaning in. You didn’t really consciously make that decision, but you weren’t opposed to it either. Closeness didn’t bother you that much unless it was for malicious intentions but that wasn’t on your mind at all. You were just excited to dip your brush back in.

“Uh yes, of course. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it” He replied to you, your eyes were sparkling. He knew you weren’t as much of a stoic woman as you pretended to be, but this was completely unexpected. You noticed his lips slightly parted. 

You were basically chest to chest with him in thin, fine, expensive chiffon.

Alone.

Realizing this, a slight blush hit your cheeks but you weren’t going to say anything. Back to not ruining the moment…

“ _Fantastic!_ ”

You let go of his arms and twirled around to the where the palettes were on the cabinets. Your best option was to _not_ make this awkward. Just focus on painting.

You grabbed a palette out of the stacks, a light wooden one with former stains on it. Moving on to the brushes, you looked over the sets. You weren’t sure what you were going to paint yet… _wait_.

_Vlad_

The idea struck you as ironic and maybe a little unoriginal, but it felt right in your hands. You smiled, god, you couldn’t keep it off today could you? You felt like a child. Excited. Happy even. Picking up a set of thin to thick brushes, you felt your heart hammer up. Why hadn’t you done this in so long? It was going to be great, you had your old passion firing up and you had your new one behind you.

Speaking of him, you heard him move finally towards the window wall. You guessed he was watching the rain. Glancing over your shoulder, you put back a strand of stray hair that had fallen and checked on him. He did in fact go to the window and had his arms crossed. For a second you just stared at him. His hair was pulled into that signature red ribbon but that didn’t stop it from cascading down his back. It was such a contrast in color, pitch black suit to silver. You wondered if you would be able to copy something so...sincere and somehow sad at the same time. You saw him side glance at you which was you cue to continue to the paint wall or speak. _Eh, why not both?_

“Can you set up an easel and canvas for me please?” You meekly asked him as you turned back around. _A task would be a good distraction._

But before you went to the paint wall, you set down the things you gathered so far to adjust something. You tugged at your shirt and decided to unbutton the top ones. You two were alone so it didn’t matter, but the implications were...complicated. You also thought your pants would be to flowish for a comfortable sitting position. Bending over, you gathered up the chiffon and tucked it back up into the waistband.

Now that you were comfortable, you got your tools again to go get paints. Gazing over all the colors was making it hard to pick your colors but it _must be done!_ You thought that acrylics would be best because you had the most experience with them. Boring, eh yeah, but better results? Your business facade may have left but not your logic.

_Grey. White. Black. Blue. Green. Red. Purple. That should be all of them! The rest I can make with these._

After you had gathered all your colors, you turned back to Vlad. He had done as you asked, an easel and canvas had been set up about 5 feet from the windows. Vlad himself was over by the window still as if he had never moved but there was a canvas a few feet from the windows set up and ready to use. He turned around to you and put on his signature smirk at your tucked in clothing. It might have looked a little ridiculous but it was justified as necessary and/or for ease. Still smiling, you walked over to your canvas feeling like a cloud.

“So do you have any ideas for your art or are you just going to go with ‘the flow’?” he asked as your approached the board. You thought on it for a second, moved the canvas forward towards him, and decided that this was the start of your afternoon-long discussion that was inevitably happening. 

“It’s always a little bit of both with these things.”

“Do you mind explaining?”

“You might want to sit then.”

And he did.

He sat down and kept his gaze on you still standing. You weren’t sure if you could work if he kept looking at you like this because you _knew_ he was watching you. It wasn't because he made you nervous, he was looking at you as if you were...to put it simply, pretty. You have felt men stare at you before just for your body, you _were_ very fit and well off. Business men tended to be the worst, but Mr.Masters had _never_ looked at your body (except for uniform inspection), he always kept at your eyes. He had even chastised other for making lewd comments or inappropriate looks towards you. But _this_? This was still at your eyes and held something warm in it. 

You balance the paints on your right hand and you leaned over to let the height down. You pushed it all the way down. You’d be at about a little less than knee height which was fine. At least this way you wouldn’t be standing over him. He gave an amused breath at your antics of trying to get comfortable. It certainly was entertaining to him in your eyes.

“The artistic process for me is like this,” you began your speech on art, but you also began painting the base color on your canvas; a grey-blue tone.

“I have a rough idea in my mind of what I want. I can’t see it in detail but I know what I want. I know I want this form and this shape or item here.” You stroke the thickest brush in a soothing pattern. Your eyes never leave this plane, you are focused on this board and this board _only_. You have no time to think about Vlad on a deeper level, you are busy pouring out your childish soul to him over colored, thick water that leaves pretty strokes.

“The details is where the randomness and unexpected items come through at. You don’t plan for that vase or jacket on the wall; They just happen. It’s weird to describe, but it’s kin to your hand knowing where to go instead of your brain _telling_ it where to go. You think with your actions and there are extended into whatever your tool is. Whether it be pencil, pen, paint, chalk, pastels, hell even etching tools, they are extended parts of you.”

You dip your brush back into your mixtures of paints. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed that you had mixed them.

“Like a sword or saber”

“Exactly. It’s just you but a little further out. And just as with a sword, you have just as much control over its actions. You are its master, it can’t a single stroke without you. It’s a co-dependence of sorts, you depend on it for results and it depends on you for movement or the ability to get results. Art is a mix between expectations and freedom of doing whatever the hell. It can be balanced though,” you pause to look off the canvas at Vlad. He’s leaning on his left leg and seems to be staring at the floor now. He is content with just listening to you ramble. And you were content with it as well. _This was your inspiration._

“Some art is wild and _completely_ unpredictable, others a precise down to the specks of freckles on someone’s face. I like to be in the middle. Predicable with a side or unexpected.”

_Unexpected_

_huh._

“Speaking of unexpected, let’s do something childish.”

“Excuse me?” You watched him sit up a bit with a small chuckle at your randomness. You delicately let your hand dab on splots of dark grey-green bushes and muted indigo-violet blooms. The blank area where Vlad would be would soon was still blank, but not for long. He had changed positions on the floor (you had started on the outside-in for a reason)but the one you wanted to paint was stuck in your mind now, and by god you were going to paint it!

“You heard me!” Your voice when a octave higher, you swear, “Something childish.” 

Another swipe of your wrist and the pants had begun. Yes, starting with the legs for a form may have been weird and even ‘unprofessional’, but art wasn’t professional. Not in the slightest. But that’s what makes it attractive.

“Childish as in?”

“Like twenty questions. Except maybe not as many. Oh and we have to answer our own question too!”

He laughs at your boldness, or maybe it’s the smile that graces your face. Your busy directing his arms with your paints with same amount of care that you had with classified documents. 

“Okay then,” he paused and that smile that feels like the sun couldn’t be brighter was still on your face. You couldn’t hide your giddiness if you tried right now.

“What is your favorite color should be a good starter; Mine, not surprisingly, is green.”

You laugh a little, you’re pretty sure you are naturally high or he drugged you, but you manage to respond. God you hope you come done from this giggly bitch phase.

“ _Surprisingly,_ mine is green as well. Color of plants.”

“Well nice plants, but I do believe it is your turn, [Y/N]”

“Right,” 

“What was your first pet’s name? Aces was my great dane.”

“Luci. My mother had a yorkie he loved more than any of her children. What food genre is your least favorite? I particularly dislike-”

“Seafood. I know, it’s _horrid_. Remember that trip to our shipping management building in Louisiana? I could not stand…”

And it kept on like this for the next hour and a half.

* * *

The first few questions were always easy. The simple ones were always quick and fun but later on the questions became more private. Some went from “What would you do it you were stranded on an island” to “How many Significant others have you had” to even “How old were you for your first kiss.” Yes, it was immature and childish, but it was fun. And you were alone, who cared? Certainly not either of you.

The afternoon went on with laughter and random facts or questions about yourselves. Stories, too. You went from boss and colleague to friends. You never expected this to happen, you thought that the gala would be as close as you two got.

You were happen it wasn’t.

Maybe you would never mention this again. Maybe you would. But it was something you would never, ever forget.

* * *

An hour and a half later your laughter and stories were cut off by Vlad’s forgotten phone ringing. You both were startled by it going off. You were just surprised because it was coming from his personal phone, but he looked annoyed. _Maybe he was actually enjoying himself…?_ Regardless, he pulled it out of his slack’s pocket, pulled himself up from the ground easily, and answered just as smoothly as if he hadn’t been talking about a picture of a Shih Tzu in Packer’s colors.

“Hello?”

You naturally wanted to listen to the conversation, you blamed your assistant training, but it was his _personal_ phone. It wasn’t your business, now at least. This was his afterlife of business, and you were business. This wasn’t your division...but you couldn’t avoid listening to his end anyways. 

“Yes, what do you require?”

“No?”

“Well that’s _complicated_ , Daniel.”

“Yes, I suppose I could. Would in about an hour work for you?”

“Yes okay, calm down Daniel. I’ll be there soon.”

_Well that sounded interesting._

He hung up and sighed. Pocketing the phone, he tilted his head up and then back down. You let a long breathe escape you and you walked over to him. You had long put your palette down on the ground beside your easel. Which, for a fact, was turned the other way towards the paint wall so as that Vlad couldn’t see the final product. You told him it was a surprise for him to come home to tomorrow, to ‘have something to come home to’ as you put it.

“Young Daniel again? Please don’t tell me it’s-”

“It’s not it idiot father, don’t worry. Something else came up”  
“Well...good luck with the boy. Teenagers are something else.”

“Don’t we know it…”

“Yeah..”

The both of you went quiet for a minute, the awkwardness eating at you within seconds.

“Vlad...Thank you. I had a wonderful afternoon. Seriously, thank you.”

You didn’t expect him to be surprised at your thanks. His face showed it clearly, his lips parted just the slightest, his fine eyebrows moving just the tiniest, and his eyes widening. You swear if Vlad Masters could be speechless, this is what it would look like. 

“Oh, m’dear, it’s nothing. Nothing at all. If you ever need a break, this would be very much enjoyed.”

“Well I’m glad.”

* * *

Vlad Masters would never admit to taking his assistant home that evening. He would never admit to leaving his hand on her side or hand just a tad too long. He would never admit that he wished Daniel never called. He would never admit that he could see your favorite color in your apartment window or the knickknacks that you talked about. He would never admit that after returning home, he wouldn't look at your painting until the next day as he promised you while laughing on the floor. He would never admit to looking at you just a bit more the next day, he would never admit that he _practically ‘flew’_ home to see your painting.

He would never admit how his jaw dropped at your work.

It was him.

It was the rain and the _garden and him_. It was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. 

His silver hair was so delicately painted, the wrinkles from his skirt because of his position, the blooms in the back glistening with rain, and _pariah dark the realism_ , but the thing that had hit him the most was his _eyes_. You had painted one of them open and the other closed. You had gotten his famous ice blue eyes, _but you had the pupil red._ Damn it, he hadn't noticed that he was slipping up. But fortunately, he knew that you had seen small things happen before. Small things that weren’t _normal_. It didn’t matter now.

_What mattered was that he would eventually admit that the gala was when he thought he had fallen for you, but this, **this** , was when he **knew** that you two might possibly have something._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my dudes! And please Review plus my grammar is h o r r i d. So please tell me what mistakes you find! It's 3am so I'll go sleep now.


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